THE BEST SCOTTISH JOKE WE EVER HEARD.--A clever Scotsman being told that Demosthenes was in the habit of making speeches at the seaside with small stones in his mouth, exclaimed, “Hoot, mon! then he must ha’ been the first Member for _Peebles_.” (_Loud cries of “Apology,” which not being given, the Reader proceeds to groan._) * * * * * THE TARTAN EPIDEMIC.--_The MacTavish (very angrily, to the new Boots at the “Rising Sun.”_)--Where, by St. Andrew! have ye planted my braw new kilt that I put oot, for to be decently brushed! Green, red, black and white plaid. _Boots (after search)._--I beg pardon, sir, but the chambermaid mistook it for the skirt of the young lady in No. 13. _But you’ve got her gown!_ * * * * * [Illustration: RECOLLECTIONS OF THE HOLIDAYS _Fussy Body (in search of a seat)._ “A’ fu’ here?” _Voice from the depths._ “‘We ar’na fou, we’re no sae fou, But jist a drappie in oor e’e----’”] [Illustration: A WILLING MARTYR _Scottish Carrier._ “Eh, bit that’s strong whusky! Bit! U’ll no spile the taste wi’ water. U’ll rather thole’t!”] [Illustration: THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE _Tam._ “Sae ye’ve gotten back, Sanders?” _Sanders._ “’Deed, aye. I’ve just gotten back.” _Jamie._ “An’ hoo did ’e like London?” _Sanders._ “Od, it’s an ootlandish place yon! They tell’t me they couldna unnerstaun ma awccent!” _John._ “Awccent! I never heard tell that Fife folk had _ony_ awccent!”] “THE HIELAND BEAUTY” Mickle did I love my Jeanie, Syn’ she wa’ a peekle weanie,[1] Kittlin’[2] owre the flattit greenie, A’ sae winsom’, A’ sae hinsom’, Dainty skirrock[3] Jeanie. How I coodled[4] in her eekit, Dooning[5] wha’ nae booties creekit Till her twa bright een they leekit, A’ sae hinsom’, A’ sae winsom’, Watting sair her cheekit. Says she, “Let lassies fash their streeps Wi’ drummie stick an’ paudy peeps, Gie me my Tam wi’ squeezy-greeps,”[6] A’ sae winsom’, A’ sae hinsom’, “Ane whiskey-toddy on fowre leeps.”[7] Wull ye be my ain, my lassie? Pibroch-peeps wi’ jug and glassie; Pladdie, too, wi’ ribbon sassie,[8] A’ sae hinsom’, A’ sae winsom’, All I gie, but hae nae brassie. Says she, “Sin ye’ve nae brassie-jingle, All the rest is sandie-shingle; Sae wi’ ye I winna mingle,” A’ sae hinsom’, A’ sae winsom’, “Steppit,[9] Tam, I’ll stoppit[10] single.” Noo I seep ma whiskey-toddy, Takin’ speerits wi’ nae boddy: Sup for ane’s nae sup for twoddy,[11] A’ sae winsom’, A’ sae hinsom’, Carls, gude night, I’ll niddy-noddy.[12] ----------------------------------